Lost Souls: Bring Me Back Home
by leoxrko
Summary: Will someone bring them back together, or will there be one to break them apart? It's their last chance. Will they survive? [Co-Written with BrightAsNight] CENTON/SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: **_AU/Bottom!Orton/Mild Violence_

**A/N: **_We thank anyone who read this and will possibly review._

**Chapter: **_1_

"Randyyyy!" the other slurred, slinging an arm around the slender man's shoulder. It was pointless to say that he had too much liquor for the night, because it was too obvious. O sighed, wrapping his arm around the other's mid section to hold him up. The other leaned heavily against him, putting more than half of his weight on the one holding him upright. He grunted in uncomfort. "You so silent, dude…. You're no fun…"

"Whatever," The younger one muttered, dragging Ambrose with him. It was eerily quiet in the streets, being midnight and all, but the streets in Middle Hampton were always like this since the day Randy remembered. Apart from the sound of our sauntering footsteps, Dean's heavy breaths and the tune he was murmuring quietly echoed through the empty valley. Just ten more blocks, until Randy dumped him at his house. He didn't even know why he decided to put up with this shit, knowing that they only wanted him in the bar were to be their navigator after they got drunk.

Randy's body went rigid, as he heard someone laughing loud. And it wasn't a happy one either, as 'happy' was a word that none of the residents here used. It was sultry, drunken, dry and maniacal.

"Randy?" Ambrose mumbled, half asleep on his feet but still a bit alert on what was happening.

"Shut up," the other hushed him, throwing a glare at his direction before he strained his ears to listen what was going on. Again the laugh was heard, but this time, it was not only one person. Maybe three… or four. Narrowing his eyes, Randy roamed his eyes over the houses. The lights were switched off in every house, everyone was asleep. The road in front of him was dark, and empty. He couldn't see where those people were, and he minded his own business. A drunk Dean Ambrose was not a helping hand, so the better he kept silence to himself, the better they will survive tonight. "Let's get out of here."

"What's goin' on?" He leaned away from Randy, looking around with his hazy eyes.

"Nothing. Let's just go," Randy grabbed his upper arm, dragging Ambrose behind him as he speeded his walk towards his rented house. Ambrose stumbled behind him, but Randy kept his eyes and ears on alert, watching their surroundings carefully. His guts twisted, a nausea feeling taking over him. Something was going to happen, Randy's instincts were screaming with caution.

"Wait up, man… slow down," Dean tried to tug his arm out of Randy's grasp, but the other held on tighter, not letting him out of my sight.

"Hurry up. I don't feel good," cursing inwardly, Randy gritted his teeth in annoyance when Dean mumbled asking if he was sick. He had no fucking idea what Randy was talking about.

The sound of glass shattering rang through the quiet road. Randy fastened his pace, practically running towards Dean's house. Those people were drunk. Wherever they were, they were closing in on the isolated two. Letting Dean go when approached his door step, Randy lifted the corner of the carpet that was spread out in front of the front door and picked up the hidden key. His hands were trembling, partially because of the cold and partially because the knotting feeling in his stomach worsened. He fumbled with the key, trying to unlock the door.

Arms snaked around his waist, wet, sloppy lips gliding on the skin of the side of his neck. "Why in a hurry, Randy? You didn't even drink with us tonight…. At least let's have some fun now…" Grimacing, Randy pulled away.

"Not now, Ambrose. Not now," opening the door, he blindly let his hand roam over the wall, to find a switch. Moments later the living room was lit up. Randy froze, booming laughter reaching his ears again.

"Shut the fuck up, you sorry sons of bitches!" Dean shouted, flipping his middle finger to nowhere in particular. Randy hissed in anger, yanking the other's pointed hand down.

"Ambrose! Shut up!" his heart was racing, as he ran his eyes over the darkened place. He did not want trouble, not now when he was alone. And Ambrose was ruining that for him. He turned around, to see Ambrose leaning against the door frame, half asleep. Pursing his lips Randy went to Ambrose, his eyes scanning the yard once in alert before wrapping an arm around Ambrose's waist and taking his weight on himself again. Dragging him across the room, Randy let his body fall limp on the couch. Taking off his shoes, Randy tossed them to the side. Flashing a final glance at Ambrose, he made his way to the door.

Randy was tempted to stay here the night, just because of that certain feeling inside him but he couldn't. Sheamus was away, and his apartment keys were with Randy. He had to take care of the place until Sheamus came back, meaning, that he had to spend another night alone. Locking the door behind him, Randy placed the key back under the carpet. Knowing that Ambrose owned a spare key in his wallet, he turned and faced the eerie darkness, that he was about to step his foot into. Forcing back a shiver, he moved back to the road. Cursing to himself for forgetting a jacket, he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, trying not to wince at the strong cold.

Only a few more blocks further, and he would reach the apartment complexion. That was if he got rid of the hyena's that were stalking behind him. The sound of footfalls rang in his ear shells. Shoulders stiffened, he was in alert of any of the movements that the little shits would make. Deep chuckles reached his ears. He halted, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Rolling his neck once, Randy turned to face his back.

Nothing.

"Oh, come on," he raised my voice, a shit eating grin spread across his lips at the surrounding darkness. "Stop playing hide and seek and come out."

Nothing.

"What, are you too afraid?" Randy cocked an eye brow.

Something hit the back of his head, hard. Randy stumbled forward, pain shooting through his scalp, one hand going back to touch the abused spot. But his arms were yanked back, folded and grips on them made sure not to let them escape. Still a bit dizzy Randy blinked, shaking his head to clear his vision up. His body went rigid, as his legs started to kick the air in front. His heart beats thudded loudly in his ears in both excitement and anger. A dangerous hiss escaped his lips.

"Calm down," someone cooed, lips grazing the crook of Randy's neck, hot breath fanning against his cold skin. Pausing only for a second, Randy squinted his eyes for a second, to see a few more figures emerging from the dark. Not the average size either, bulky. Gulping hard, Randy only wasted one second. His head threw back, head-butting the one who hold him from behind in his face. When the man grunted in pain the hold he had on Randy's arms loosened, just enough for him to swing his elbow backwards and strike the man's chest. Groaning, the man stumbled back and Randy's knee gutted him. Doubling over, the man lost his balance and fell to the ground.

Randy hissed again, when someone else grabbed him from behind and yanked him away from the man on the ground before he could aim another kick at him. "Get your fucking hands off me!" he struggled, shouting in rage. Then he froze, again, as that certain maniacal laugh was heard. Somehow in some way, the sound managed to get his mind disturbed. He was sure he had heard it somewhere before, but his mind couldn't link a place. His chin was grabbed, and his face was turned to the side, to face a man. His brown eyes were shiny, even in the dark. If one counted out how the man's body looked- muscled and bulky, with tattoos- the dark look his eyes held was intimidating enough for the one to not to look at the man twice.

"Let me remind you that _you're_ the one scurried inside a house after your dear friend dared to insult us, little one," his index finger trailed up Randy's jaw, his hand reaching behind Randy's head. A fistful of Randy's dark brown hair was grabbed, and his head was yanked back. Randy hissed again, gritting his teeth at the man who seemed to be the leader of the crew, as the others stood silently around the two and the person who was holding Randy. "What is this?" The man's voice was curious, as his eyes casted towards a certain revealed spot behind Randy's left ear. "Oh-ho…."

Randy knew that his cover was blown. He would have hell to pay tomorrow, when he would have to face his own master.

"It's Callaway's little Viper," the man grinned widely, as one or two men behind him gasped. "I should've known, though… No one else owns these skulls inked arms," his finger brushed over the small coiled viper tattoo behind Randy's ear again, making a shiver erupt within him. This time, he couldn't hold it back. The other chuckled darkly, his finger repeating the action again just to see The Viper shiver once more. When he was about to do it again, the young one averted his head away from his touch. A flame burned inside him, bright and deadly. "Never thought that someone who was known to be untouchable and fierce could be so…. Pretty."

Randy didn't miss the way the man licked his lips, his eyes darkening as they roamed over his body. Randy's guts twisted to the point where he could handle no more. He had to get out of here, fast. In lightning speed, his leg shot up and kicked the large man in his shin. Ignoring the swear he gave, Randy head-butted again the man behind him. The next few seconds were a blur, Randy's arms and legs moving swiftly and crashing against flesh, he himself receiving a few blows as well. Then he found himself running, running as fast as his long legs could. Never once glancing back, he panted in-between the steps he took, his mind on frenzy. His lungs were screaming for air, and his ribs were aching, as his eyes wildly searched for a place to hide until the gang missed him.

"Stop running before I fucking shoot you," he recognized the voice, it belonging to the one who identified him. The dude wasn't playing around, Randy knew by his tone but if either he stopped or not, it would be the death of him either way. He turned to the nearest alley he could reach for, disappearing from the sight of the hyenas that were chasing him. The little he saw from the faint moonlight was no help. He blindly stretched out his hands, reaching for God knows what and searched for something to grab on to. He could hear the others' voices and curses, the sound becoming louder and louder by the passing second.

For the briefest moment, a thought of getting caught flashed across his mind. Suddenly, he was grabbed, again. Did what he thinks become a reality?

"Shh," someone whispered in his ear, pulling him flush against a hard, muscled body. Gasping, Randy tried to move away, but the arms around him tightened, locking around him in vice holds. "I'm not going to hurt you." For some reason, Randy believed those words. There was something coating those words that made him believe that whoever the person was did not mean any harm. That did not mean Randy trusted him.

Not for one second letting his guard down, Randy statued himself. The man's chest was pressing against his back, the heat radiating off his body being a littlest comfort for Randy in the coldness he felt surrounding him. He tensed, when he heard multiple footfalls. They were nearing him. He pressed back, pressing harder against the other. His breaths became shallow, ragged, coming out faster than before. The one behind him clasped a hand over Randy's mouth, trying to silence the man. He dragged Randy backwards, wishing the slender man would for once stop struggling and pushed themselves into the bypath.

And apparently, they were faced with a dead-end. "We're stuck!" Randy hissed, pulling away from the man and hissing in anger. He couldn't see who it was, but the he could figure that the man was about an inch or two shorter than him, with a muscled built that would consider, over-powering. Again the man's hand clasped over his mouth, pushing him back and with a dull thud, Randy felt his back crashing against the wall behind him. He bit back a groan, clawing at the man's hand. Not that the man was phased even the tiniest bit, no.

"Shut up," he whispered in a harsh tone. And then a moment of silence passed between them, the only thing that reached Randy's ear being the sound of retreating footfalls. It was when a good fifteen minutes later when nothing was heard Randy breathed out in relief. He slumped his shoulders; feeling exhausted all of a sudden. Then he stiffened again. He had almost forgotten there was a man with him there.

"Mmmf fmmff, mm," he tried to pry the man's hand away.

"What?" The man asked. It was as if he had been in another world. "Oh. Sorry," and then the hand was off him, and Randy could breath freely again.

"Why?" was the first thing that slipped out of Randy's lips.

"Why what?"

"Why did you…" he thought of a better word to say, and settled on with "helped me?" he could see the man gently shrugging his shoulders. He squinted his eyes to get a better look at the man, but the darkness was preventing him from it. "You shouldn't have."

"Why?" it was the man's turn.

"Because now I owe you," Randy hissed, bowing his head the slightest bit.

"You don't even know me," Randy could imagine the man cocking an eye brow, giving him an incredulous look.

"I could say the same thing to you."

A moment of silence. "Why were they chasing you?"

"None of your business," Randy's words came out harsher than he expected, but he regretted none. He meant it. Then he turned his back to the man, taking steps towards the entrance of the bypath and slipping out of it to the main alley.

"Wait," he heard the man shout, but he ignored it. "Hey, stop."

"I will pay back when a chance comes." Then he felt fingers wrapping around his arm, yanking him back. Randy faced him, stopping his face away inches from the man. "What?"

"You said you owe me," the man said, and a hint of a smirk could be heard in his voice. Randy prepared for the worst, giving a stiff nod. "I need a place to stay for a few days. Just until I find one to myself."

"And what do you want me to do?"

"Find one… Right now," the man let go of his arm, after giving a squeeze. Randy cocked his head, giving a calculating look at the man for the longest few seconds. The only good thing that comes out of this that he would owe nothing to anyone. But, what this man was asking nearly impossible. It's probably past midnight. No place was available at this time of the night. No one would take in an outsider. Even the office in his apartment complex was supposedly shut down and he would have to wait until morning to contact him.

Except…

For Sheamus' apartment. No. That was not going to happen. Sheamus would be outrageous if he found out about keeping another man inside his apartment. He barely acknowledged Randy, when he was first put under Sheamus' wing by Callaway.

But, what Sheamus didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N]** _We thank everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter._

**(02)**

For the fourth time of the morning, Randy glanced at the still soundly sleeping man on his bed from the corner of his eye. He barely had his sleep last night, as the couch wasn't as comfortable as it looked on its appearance. And this… this goon-head had taken the comfy bed away from him. Just three minutes… just for three minutes Randy had gone into the bathroom and when he came out, here he was, sprawled all over the big, soft bed, snoring lightly. Randy had been tempted to wrench the man out of his bed and throw him out of the house but no… in a way, he owed him. And because of him, Randy had to keep on wearing his boxers. He hated sleeping with clothes on, even if it was a little cloth that covered his private parts.

Throwing the blankets away he stood up from the couch, stretching his arms out to crack the sleepiness away. A soft groan reached his ears, making him look at the man on the bed again. He stared at the stirring body for a moment, sensing that the man is waking up. Since Randy had so politely snatched the blanket away from the man, his clothed body-with shoes- was full on display. And the prominent bulge in his pants was more than noticeable. Feeling like he was invading the man's privacy, Randy looked away. He had his own problem to take care of. Walking over to the small closet, he opened the side he owned, his eyes roaming over the few clothes he owned.

A low whistling sound was heard. He glanced back, to see the man sitting cross legged on the bed, a sleepy, goofy smile on his face as his eyes lazily ran up and down Randy. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Randy focused his attention back on the clothes.

"I can guess why they were chasing you," he heard the man say. Randy froze. Those men that were chasing him… in less than an hour he would have hell to pay for. Maybe he shouldn't tell Callaway about the incident. But… that would mean, betraying his rules. Then again if he did reveal what happened, not only him but Ambrose's job would be in line. "Hello?" he snapped back to reality, as a hand was waved in front of his face. Hissing, Randy took a few steps away to increase the proximity between him and the man. What was his name again? Narrowing his eyes, Randy cocked his head. The face was familiar, especially those sapphire blue eyes.

"Well, I thought I lost you for a second," the man chuckled. Those words… they were familiar too. "As I was saying, since I'm gonna stay here for a while I may need to know your name, gorgeous."

"Only a few days, and you'll be gone. Why would you need my name until that?" Randy said, his voice low and deep as he grabbed onto the closest thing his hand reached. Then he closed the closet door, fixing his eyes on the man again. "And don't call me that."

"Call you what? Gorgeous?" a smirk spread across the man's lips, which Randy found incredibly annoying. A hint of dimples caught Randy's eyes. "But it suits you. Either tell me your name, or I'll resume calling you that."

Irritation rose up inside Randy, as he narrowed his eyes to slits, if that was even possible. Then he shook his head, and looked away, directly meeting a pair of bright green eyes. he forced back a gasp. He had spoken too soon.

"Who's this?" annoyed green eyes questioned him.

"This is…." Randy was at a loss of words. He didn't even know the man's name.

"John Cena," the other answered, feeling that the one beside him was in unease. "And it's not what you think," he said, noticing the weird look on the red head's eyes. "He was just giving me a place to stay until I find one to myself."

"Stay out of it," Randy snapped, coming in front of John and blocking his view. Then he turned towards the third man who had just appeared, and made his way to him. Wrapping his hand around the other's wrist, Randy tugged him out of the bedroom, into the living room. He made sure to close the door, gesturing toward the bathroom with his head, silently telling John the answer for what he asked. He took a few seconds to regain his lost breaths and faced the red head. "Sheamus…"

"Explain," the larger man folded his arms across his chest, green eyes narrowing to slits as he calculated the younger one.

"I… Last night… He… helped me to hide from some guys…" he managed to get the words out of his head, kind of.

"Why do I get the feeling that it's not all of the story?" Sheamus leaned forward, grabbing the other's forearm and dragging him towards himself.

"That gang… whoever they are… recognized me."

"What?" Sheamus straightened up his spine, his eyes widening. "Fuck… Do you know how _he'd_ react-"

"I know that!" Randy growled in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "I just don't know what the fuck to do. in a way, I'm glad that you came."

"Yeah, well… I'm kind of glad about that too," Sheamus replied curtly, flicking his eyes towards the bedroom door. "How did he even help you? He looks like a comlete goof ball."

"And he is," Randy gave a nod, then rolled his eyes. "He pulled me into an alley."

"Sounds kinky?" Sheamus cocked his eye brow, puffing out his cheeks.

"Shut up," Randy growled again, punching Sheamus' shoulder.

"So did you have a dream of me coming back? I see you all dressed up for me," a grin spread across Sheamus' face, his eyes raking the younger one's body. Knotting his eye brows in confusion, Randy looked down, only to notice that he was still in his boxer shorts. Leave it to Sheamus to flirt with him at this time of the day. Glaring, he whipped his clean t-shirt at Sheamus, hitting him on the chest. He caught it, yanking it and pulling Randy flush against his body. "And you're hot," he murmured into Randy's ear.

"Don't I know that?" Randy rolled his eyes again, trying to push Sheamus away from him. the hands that were gently pushing away Sheamus' chest froze, when Sheamus' hands landed on his ass, squeezing his cheeks. A low growl slipped out of his lips.

"Ahem?" they hastily pulled away, when they heard a third party clearing his throat. Sheamus glared at John, who was cocking an eye brow at them from the door way of their bedroom. "Get a room, maybe?"

"Apparently, you happen to use my bedroom," Sheamus tilted his head to the side, glowering heatedly.

"Chill, dude, I was just-"

"When is he leaving?" Sheamus asked from Randy, as if John was not present in the room.

Randy pursed his lips, glancing at John from the corner of his eye. He caught a glimpse of John watching his every move from those sapphire blue eyes, forcing back a shiver that threatened to surface. Why did he always felt like he knew those eyes and dimples from somewhere? Then he looked at Sheamus. "Just a few days until he finds a place to stay.

"He could just rent an apartment," Sheamus said, stating the obvious.

"Not enough money," John interrupted, before randy could say anything. "I'm gonna find a job today."

Sheamus looked at him again, his jaws twitching in slight irritation. "I don't care if you find one or not, you should be out of this apartment by the end of this week. Or else, I'll personally kick you out… Johnathan."

"That's not even my real name," John muttered in a low voice.

"What did you just say?" Sheamus stood up to his full height, cocking his head at John. He felt Randy touch his forearm, but he paid zero attention to him. John raised his hands defensively, casting a final glance at Randy before leaving the room. A moment passed, until the two inside heard the main door of the apartment being shut. "He's a headache."

"Don't I know that?" Randy spoke, his hand rubbing soreness in the back of his neck. A long, soft groan dragged out of his lips, as Sheamus' fingers kneaded into the aching muscle.

"Now that we got rid of him for the day…" he could feel Sheamus grinning from ear to ear against his skin, Randy chuckled to himself. He knew what was coming. It was great to have friends… with benefits. And the next second he found himself being tossed over Sheamus' shoulder, carried towards the bed.

XX

"He wants to see you," Ambrose told Randy, as soon as he stepped into the warehouse. Randy covered up the nervous expression in his face with a hardened mask, not showing Ambrose that he was shitless scared to meet the boss. He gave a stiff nod, his body tensing when his eyes caught the sight of Callaway's office. He could feel all of the clan members' eyes on him as he made his way towards the office. There was no way anyone other than himself, and Sheamus could know about what happened last night. Not even Ambrose. He hesitated a second in front of the door, before taking a deep breath and twisting the door knob.

He never had the feeling that he needed to knock on the door before entering, while others would not even dare to look Callaway straight in his eyes. he saw the man himself leaning against his office table, staring hard at a piece of paper in his hands. Randy swallowed thickly, as he watched the paper gets scrunched up to a ball. "I didn't think you'd show up," his deep, growl of a voice worded, his eyes not looking at the younger man in his door way.

"Why wouldn't I?" Randy asked in a timid voice, folding his arms behind his back. for the longest minute, he received no answer. He took one step forward. "Dad?"

Dull green eyes landed on him, with something like insecurity shining in them. Randy's heart clenched. Since the day Callaway has taken him under his wing, he has never once looked at Randy with an emotion like that. "I trusted you to keep yourself covered up," he knew. Randy heard his own breath hitch in his throat. His hand was taken, and the ball of paper was placed in his palm. He frowned at it, unfolding it as Callaway's back turned.

_The mask is off. The Viper might not be safe from now on_.

His heart literally jumped to his throat. He looked up at Callaway, noticing the man has been staring at him with an unknown expression in his face. "Dad, i-"

"Did you, or did you not meet Batista last night?" he practically growled.

"Batista?" The familiar word rolled his tongue, and for a second he was confused. Then his eyes widened slightly. The bulky man with a shaved head and tattoos. He had seen a poster of that man once, a poster that he had spotted in the police station when he had gone to bail out Ambrose and Cesaro. "Yes… I couldn't recognize him last night…"

"Jacobs hired him," Callaway sighed, wiping a hand down his face. "I know I don't need to say this but… Kid, you're in trouble… and because of that, we're all in trouble. That doesn't mean we're backing down."

"You want me to find out what they're up to?"

"No!" Callaway roared, then softened a bit when he saw Randy flinching away from him. "You're not going anywhere near them!"

"But there's no one other here is good for that type of job except for me, Dad," he tried to reason, getting a glare in response.

"I don't care," he growled again. "You're not going. I'll send Sheamus."

"But he just got ba-"

"Do not retort with me, boy," that shut Randy up. "If I say you're not going, you're not. I have other jobs for you than sending you to the he'll gates… The only reason they held back from the downtown area is you. Now that they know who you are…"

Randy sighed. He dug a hole that he himself could not get up. If only Ambrose had kept his mouth shut. Not that he was blaming him, no person was in their right mind after drinking. But still…

Randy told the entire story that happened last night to Callaway, including his encounter with John Cena. "Do you trust him?" Randy was silent, looking into Callaway's eyes for the longest moment. Did he trust John Cena?

"No…"

Callaway pursed his lips.

"Did you ever think about how he got into that alley in the first place?"


End file.
